Once upon a midnight dream lay a world that was suspended far above the heads of sleeping mortals.
It was beyond glorious, the sun glowing with warmth and beauty in the day; as it fell in the dusk darkness smoothly rolled over the sky, the moon bathing everything in a soft silver light. The people that dwelt on the clouds which drifted peacefully over ever Friskan were nothing like us, however.
They had skin as fragile as rice paper and eyes that radiated soft hues of colour. They roamed among the clouds because if a human or similar creature were ever to discover them - well - stories of pitchforks and brutal sacrifices were reason enough.
These people had been dubbed Guardians and for good reason. Not only immortal, they protected the land of Friska down to the waves crashing against the sand to the vibrant colours in the sky to the each and every heartbeat pulsing beneath your skin.
They did not control, but rather doted on the element or emotion residing in the shining gems they wore about their necks - which also held their very souls. To put it simply, where their being and power came from.
Such powerful, precious stones, usually cradled carefully to the people's chests, could be unbelievably dangerous in the wrong hands.
Thus, the growing sense of panic in Pheniox when he arose to see the now empty case of the gem of all fate was quite justified.
YOU ARE READING
The Guardian's Awakening
Sonstiges"Lord Pheniox, what bekons you?" "Cadence, what do you speak of?" "He is your eldest, Aarango." Lord Pheniox is trying to combat an outcry- The biggest war in centuries is rummaging upon his world's lands, and in this mist of chaos the unspeakable...
